My Mornings Poem by Alejandro Jankins

I wake up in the early
morning
The same like every
morning
Since I've told that I'm
different
with the shearing
rage
that rips through me
like a knife
They are the broken pieces of
yesterday, and the past
That i will hold forever

Planted firmly all
over my body
gushing out blood like a stream
dried up blood all over
my prison cell
that you might call
home
I try to forget
the pain
by trying to rip
out the broken pieces

But when i try
all that's left
is a hole...
the deep hole i
have inside
the one that no one
will ever fill
with their happiness
or all that's
good
The pain i hold
within me will
stay forever

But if you must know
I'm colorful